Oxygen
by starg8fans
Summary: Tag to The Last Man, so expect spoilers for that ep. Trapped and awaiting rescue, Ronon and Sheppard have to rely on each other to survive. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** I do not own any of the characters of Stargate Atlantis, and I only write for my own pleasure (and hopefully other fans') without any monetary gain.

A great big **thank you** to my wonderful beta Lahela, who's invaluable support and feedback always keep me on track.

Ronon half awoke to something tickling his throat. The cough it caused ended quickly in a grunt when the motion sent fiery daggers through his breast. Gasping through the pain, he tried to open his eyes. They appeared to be caked shut, but he managed to open one of them just a slit. It didn't help much. Wherever he was, it was pitch black.

He tried lifting his arms to wipe his eyes, but only the right limb obeyed him. His left arm was squashed painfully against his tender ribcage. Instead of towards his face, his right hand went towards his left side, but it only encountered broken stone and rubble.

Ronon stopped moving and attempted to get his sluggish brain to remember what had happened. His team. Were they buried under the debris as well? Not Teyla and Sheppard, though - they were missing. No, John had come back through the Stargate, suddenly. With a wild story of having visited the future. And he had brought a gate address… Images formed in Ronon's dazed brain, a room with Wraith equipment, and then in his mind Lorne's voice rang out.

"_Colonel, it's a booby trap!"_

He remembered running out of the room, pushing Sheppard ahead of him, and then the crash as the ceiling of the corridor came down on them.

"Sheppard?" Ronon tried to call, but his dry throat could only produce a croak. His attempt to speak brought on another coughing fit that left him dizzy with pain. If there was any reply he would have missed it, so Ronon took a careful breath and called again. From the dull tone his voice made he could tell that he was in a rather small cavity.

Refusing to consider the worst, Ronon decided that John was either close by and unconscious, or he had managed to escape and was going for help. As waiting was something that never came easy to the Satedan, he decided to try and pull himself out from under the rubble. His right hand probed the immediate area, and just above his head it found an end of pipe that was sticking out from the concrete floor. Reaching for it, he clamped his right hand around it and gave a mighty heave.

He came to regret his decision almost immediately. Ronon had expected his busted ribs to protest, but he had been unaware that his left leg was broken, and that his foot was trapped under a large slab of the ceiling. His scream echoed through the chamber as the ends of the broken bones grated against each other. A red veil rose before his eyes, and he lost consciousness.

The next time he woke he felt something cool against his face. Moaning softly, he ran his tongue over his lips, lapping at droplets of water.

"That's it, big guy, come on, open your eyes for me."

Ronon did as John had said. This time his eyes opened immediately, since Sheppard had cleaned his teammate's face of dust and blood. The narrow beam of a flashlight illuminated the Colonel's worried face, hair powdered almost white by dust.

"Drink…" Ronon croaked, and right away he felt the welcome taste of water trickle down his parched throat. But all too soon the flask was taken away from his lips.

"Sorry, bud, that's all I can give you right now. We have to save some for later," Sheppard explained. Ronon nodded and closed his eyes.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Apart from some scrapes and bruises, I'm fine - thanks to you," John replied. "You pushed me and sent me flying out of harm's way when the ceiling came down." When he saw the puzzled frown on Ronon's face, he asked, "You don't remember, do you?"

The Satedan shook his head, wincing as a dull ache spread through his skull.

"Not surprising. You got a nice gash across your forehead, so you can expect your brain to be a bit woozy at the moment. Any other damage you can tell?"

"Ribs," Ronon murmured, "And my leg…"

"Well, we've got to get you out of there. There's no telling how long we'll be stuck here. I tried raising the others on my com, but no answer. In the meantime, you may be slowly bleeding to death somewhere under that pile."

John ran the flashlight over the heap of rubble that covered his friend.

"Looks kinda loose to me. Maybe I can just pull you out from underneath."

Disregarding the throbbing in his temples, Ronon shook his head emphatically.

"No. Tried that," he rasped. "Foot's trapped. Hurts like hell."

"You were awake before? And tried to pull yourself out?" John sighed. "Why am I not surprised…" He looked at the rubble again. "Okay, I'll have to dig you out. Slowly, or this whole crap may come down on both of us."


	2. Chapter 2

About an hour later John pulled a bruised and dusty hand over his sweating forehead, and surveyed his work. He had been trying to free Ronon's left arm, but the debris that was piled over the Satedan's lower body kept shifting and cascading down to undo his work.

Reaching for the flashlight, Sheppard said, "I better turn this off while I take a break. I only have one spare set of batteries with me." He took a deep breath. "This stuff is harder to do than I thought. I'm beat."

"I don't think it's only the work," Ronon replied, and John saw to his surprise that his teammate was panting as well.

"The air! We must be sealed in, and we're using up all the oxygen!"

Tapping his earpiece, Sheppard tried once more to reach anybody who could come to their assistance, but there was only static. He hoped fervently that it was a malfunction of the transmitter or some other kind of interference, and that Rodney, Lorne and the others were okay.

Shaking his head at Ronon's questioning glance, he stood up and pointed the torch at the walls of broken stone that surrounded them.

"Any way out?" Ronon asked.

John shook his head. "I don't think I could shift any of these chunks on my own."

The roof of the chamber they were in - and that had saved their lives - consisted of two large slabs of concrete with the smaller supporting the larger one, forming a kind of tent. The sides were filled by piles of rubble that had poured in from above. Sheppard walked over to the one across from where Ronon lay and began to scale it. With the deteriorating air, he was wheezing when he reached the top. Still, he began to dig where the crumbled material met the roof. But the only result was a small avalanche of stones that almost swept him down with it. Scrabbling for a hold, John swore when he cut his hand on something sharp, but at least he managed to keep his footing.

"Sheppard, are you alright?" Ronon gasped, unable to twist far enough to see what had happened.

"I'm fine. And I may actually have found something…"

Hoping it had been some sort of tool, Sheppard hunted about for whatever had cut him, and that's when he noticed the corner of a metal grill that could have been used once to cover an air vent. When he pulled it out, he noticed an attached hose. Following the length of rubber, John found a container.

"We just may get lucky," he informed Ronon. "There's a tank here that looks like the ones they us for oxygen in our infirmary."

There was a valve and a small wheel at the top, and when he turned the latter there was the faint hiss of compressed air escaping. Ronons sensitive ears picked up the slight noise.

"Sounds like it's full."

"Yeah, it is," John replied, "but full of what? Could be air, but could also be some kind of gas. The problem is, how am I gonna tell what it is?"

"Any marks on the tank?" Ronon suggested. Eagerly the Colonel dug around the top of the tank, looking for some kind of inscription. In the dim glow from his flashlight he almost missed it. A symbol made up of triangles and lines had been etched into the dull metal. It's end was almost obliterated, since that part of the container was badly scratched. Sheppard ran his fingertips over it.

"There's something here, but I have no idea what it means."

"What is it?"

"It's a hexagon, and inside are two small triangles, then a line and another six triangles."

Ronon grinned triumphantly. "Bullseye. It's our way to draw elements. Two sets of electrons, one of two and one of six. That stands for…"

"… oxygen." John finished for him, relief swinging in his voice. "Of course. Okay, here goes."

He turned the screw and left it open for several minutes until his breathing had returned to normal.

Scrambling down the pile of debris, Sheppard returned to Ronon. He was glad to see that the Satedan, too, was breathing easier. Still, the paleness of his features worried him. John could only hope that it was the result of shock, rather than of some internal or external hemorrhage that was slowly draining his teammate's life away. But there was only one way to find out. He had to get him out of there.

"How are you feeling?"

"Stuck," Ronon replied with a grimace.

"Hey, give me a chance, I'm working on it," John replied. And with renewed vigor he tackled the next layer of rubble.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews! Glad you like the story. Now let's see what else we can do to our two heroes...

Although he had no more trouble breathing, Sheppard figured that his earlier exertions had taken more out of him than he'd thought. The pieces of debris he was shifting off the pile seemed to become heavier and heavier. His bones felt as if they were filled with lead, and he decided that a bit of rest would be in order. It would also be an opportunity to switch off the flashlight for a while. Its glow appeared to have dwindled lately.

Before he plunged them into darkness again he went to check on Ronon, though, and John was relieved to find that his color appeared to have improved a bit. But he also noticed that the Satedan's eyelids were drooping, although he made a valiant effort to stay awake.

"How's the head?" Sheppard asked, lifting a corner of the dressing he had put over the gash in his forehead. Luckily it had stopped bleeding.

"Fine," came the standard reply.

"No pain? Dizziness? Nausea?" Those symptoms could have indicated a concussion, and in that case he knew he should not let his teammate fall asleep. But Ronon shook his head.

"Just tired…"

"I guess we both deserve a time out," John decided. Making sure that Ronon was resting as comfortably as his situation allowed, John stretched out on the floor next to him and turned off the light. Before he drifted off to sleep, he tried once again to raise somebody via his transmitter, but there was still no reply.

When Sheppard awoke and looked at his watch he realized that he had slept almost three hours. He felt better than before, but not as well rested as he should have been. Probably the air quality had deteriorated again while they had been out. When he turned on his flashlight, he saw Ronon's eyes watching him.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A while."

"Thirsty?"

Ronon nodded, and they both took a few swallows from John's flask. Strangely enough, none of them felt hungry although it had been quite a while since their last meal. Carefully replacing the plug on the canteen, John stood and walked over to the other side of the cavity.

"Guess it's time again for a bit of air freshening," he told his teammate over his shoulder. "I'll need all the energy I can get to dig you out of there."

Again, he left the valve open for several minutes, hoping it would help to revive him. Back on Ronon's side of the room, Sheppard surveyed the pile of debris, locating the next chunk of stone that could be safely removed without fear of causing another avalanche. Grabbing its sides, he levered the piece on one end in order to move it sideways so that it would tumble down a safe distance away from where Ronon still lay pinned by the rubble. But before he could give it the necessary push, he fumbled with hands that suddenly became clumsy and uncoordinated, and the rock toppled over to the wrong side, striking his teammate's shoulder a glancing blow before coming to rest on the floor beside him.

"God, I'm so sorry, it got away from me," John stammered as he knelt next to Ronon and tried to assess the damage that had been done.

"Don't worry, it hardly touched me," Ronon growled through gritted teeth that belied his words.

Sheppard used his knife to cut away the shirt and expose the injured shoulder. A dark bruise was already starting to form, but at least the damage appeared to be limited to the muscle rather than the underlying bones.

"Could have been worse," John said, his shoulders sagging in relief. Feeling completely drained, he leaned back against the pile he was trying to shift. "But I'm not gonna try that again soon."

"But I think..."

"Don't. Think," John muttered, closing his eyes. His brain felt as if it was packed in cotton wool, and he had a hard time remembering why he had wanted to get Ronon out from under those stones in the first place. "We wait. It's way past our check-in time, I'm sure Carter has sent out a rescue team already."

"But…"

"No buts. We need to conserve our strength for when they get here."

And to make it clear that this was the end of the discussion, Sheppard switched off the light.


	4. Chapter 4

When he heard John's breathing level out in the deep, even cadence of sleep again, Ronon's brow knotted in concern. Something was wrong with Sheppard. This fatigue was so unlike the Colonel's usual energetic nature. Maybe the fall had caused some covert injury whose effects were only now becoming noticeable. But whatever the cause, it was clear to Ronon that he was left to his own devices.

What he had tried to tell Sheppard after the rock fell was the he had felt the pressure on his left arm lessen significantly, almost to the point where he would be able to pull it out. John's excavation efforts had freed the piece of ceiling that was lying across Ronon's torso, resting on his arm. With most of the weight that had been on top of it gone, it should be possible to lift the slab far enough to free the trapped limb.

Taking a deep breath, Ronon put his right hand under the sheet of rock and pushed. Gritting his teeth against the pain that flared up in his chest and shoulder, he increased the pressure until he heard a grinding noise and the weight began to lift. It only took about an inch, and he could pull out his other arm. Ignoring the pins and needles that coursed through it as circulation was restored, he groped for a piece of rock he had singled out before in order to wedge it under the slab and keep it in position. But before he could get a hold of it he heard something shift in the pile, and the next moment a jolt went through the sheet of concrete, and it settled more heavily on top of him, the edge digging painfully into his rib cage.

A low moan escaped Ronon's lips, not enough air left in his lungs for a scream. Struggling to draw in a deep breath, his ribs grated in protest, and he fought to remain conscious. Red dots were dancing in front of his eyes, and there was a whistling and pounding in his ears. He began to pant, taking quick, shallow breaths and slowly the dots and the whistling subsided. But the pounding remained. Willing his wildly beating heart to still, Ronon listened intently.

"Sheppard? Did you hear that?"

Trying to dispel the fog clouding his brain, John shook his head a few times before turning on the flashlight and sitting up to listen. He was just about to tell the Satedan that there was nothing, that he had been mistaken, when he heard it too - three clanging beats, followed by silence. It appeared that help had arrived. Relief spread through him, as he listened as the signal was repeated. Again. And again.

"Hadn't we better reply?" Ronon prompted him.

"What? Oh yes, of course..." Cursing his weakness and lack of reaction, John pushed himself up with great effort, picked up a piece of rock and began to beat it against the floor at irregular intervals.

Ronon closed his eyes in frustration.

"Sheppard, you have to... match their signal, and... you have to use... the pauses in... between to make... yourself heard," he managed to grate out between gasps for air.

John stopped his wild pounding. Of course that's what he should have done, it was standard procedure. What was wrong with him? He sat unmoving, waiting for the next signal - but it never came. Instead, he could hear Ronon's labored breathing. That's what it was. Lack of oxygen. He had read Jon Krakauer's 'Into Thin Air' and knew how it would incapacitate a person's thinking processes. Okay, there was something he had to do to improve the air in the chamber, what was it? Slowly an image formed in his addled brain, a metal cylinder with a wheel at the top…

Almost as if on autopilot, John began to scale the pile where he had found the oxygen tank.

Watching the Colonel's progress, a suspicion suddenly entered Ronon's mind. They had no way of telling what really was in that tank. What if it contained something that was causing John's strange behavior? His symptoms had only started after he had opened the container for the first time, and they had worsened after the second round. But why didn't it affect himself? Although - Ronon had to admit he did feel rather weary and light headed. He had attributed it to his injuries, but what if there was more to it?

"Sheppard - don't…" he managed to get out in between wheezing breaths.

"You need air, you can hardly breathe." John's reply sounded distracted.

"Listen to me," Ronon tried again, "it's this… slab… across my chest… the oxygen…" Running out of air, he was unable to complete his warning. And then he heard the familiar hissing of the tank's valve.


	5. Chapter 5

The hissing went on for much longer than before, while the glow from John's flashlight became weaker. Whatever was in that tank, oxygen had to be a large part of it. Ronon felt his struggle for drawing deep breaths lessen as more of the life giving gas saturated the air. Summoning his strength to sound normal, he called out, "That'll do, Sheppard!"

There was no reply, and the hissing continued.

"Sheppard! Shut it off! NOW!" Ronon shouted again, but once more, no response. The Colonel must have lost consciousness. A sense of lethargy began to steal over Ronon, and his eyelids began to droop. With a last flicker, the light's batteries died, plunging them into darkness. He started to drift off. There was nothing he could do anymore, so why bother?

That's when he heard it. The clang of metal on stone. It came from across the room, right above where John had found the tank. Somebody was trying to get to them! The adrenalin that was now coursing through Ronon's veins had him wide awake within seconds. Twisting his head as far as it would go, he tried to find the spot where their rescuers would break through. Suddenly he saw a spiderweb of cracks where a glow seeped through the rubble, and soon after a sizable chunk of rock was removed and light poured in through an opening just under the roof of their cavity.

He heard Lorne call out, "We're through!" and then Rodney's voice, squeaky with worry, "Sheppard? Ronon? Are you there?"

"We're here!" Ronon shouted back. "But watch out! The air is full of oxygen and some other gas!"

"What kind of gas?" That was Sam Carter.

"Don't know. But I think it knocked Sheppard out!"

"You _think_?" That was Rodney again. "Where is he?"

"Should be right below you."

The beam of a flashlight was angled through the hole, and soon focused on a limp black form that lay sprawled of the pile of debris.

"He's okay for now, I can see him breathing," Sam declared.

There was a low mumble, interspersed with Rodneys nervous chattering, as the rescue team discussed their next step.

"What's your status? Can you hang on a bit longer?" Carter called out after they had come to a conclusion.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Okay, we'll dig another hole on the opposite side, and set up a compressor to pump whatever's in there out the other end," Sam announced.

"I'll wait!" Ronon called back. His eyelids were getting heavy again, so for once, he didn't mind at all doing just that.


	6. Chapter 6

So this is it, the last chapter. Thanks for the reviews, it's always nice to get feedback. Can't wait to see _Search and Rescue _to find out what really happened. 19 days until July 11 and counting!

"And you're sure you don't want any pain medication?" the nurse asked again. Ronon just glared at her. The drugs he had been given before the doctors set his leg were wearing off, and he was aching all over, but he wanted to be alert when Sheppard came round. With a shrug the nurse disappeared, and Ronon relaxed into his pillows.

It wasn't long until there was a low moan from the bed next to his. Turning his head in that direction, Ronon watched John struggling to come out of his deep sleep. When his eyelids began to flutter open, he closed them again instantly, covering his face with his hands.

"Must have been quite some party last night," he groaned.

"You'll live," Ronon said. "Welcome back."

Squinting against the infirmary lights, John turned his head towards his teammate. Ronon waited patiently while the Colonel's memories of their ordeal together returned.

"Guess the rescue party did their job after all," Sheppard finally said. "How did they find us?"

"Scanners."

"And how's the leg?"

"Clean break. I'll be up and about again in a couple of weeks."

John snorted. "I think Doc Keller will disagree with you there. By the way, what's her diagnosis on me?"

"She said you're fine."

"Did she now?" Sheppard pulled a face. "Then how do you explain this mother of all headaches, not to mention the way I was struggling to stay awake down there in that hole?"

"It was the oxygen."

"The _oxygen_?"

"Yup," Ronon nodded. "It was mixed with a sedative."

"Well, they could at least have put a warning label on the container."

"They did. But the other symbol was wiped out by the scratches you saw."

Frowning, John looked at his teammate. "You figured it out, didn't you? I seem to remember you tried to warn me… Why didn't it affect you?"

"I'm pretty immune to sedatives. And I was on my back already, so I didn't notice it so much. Anyway, you got nothing to worry about."

"That's right…" Sheppard replied, closing his eyes again. But the next moment, he bolted upright.

"Nothing to worry about! What about Michael and Teyla?"

"No sign of them yet. But Carter's got the place covered. She'll get her back, Sheppard, the minute they arrive."

John pushed back the blanket and swung his legs over the side.

"No way I'm gonna miss that. Where are my clothes?"

Ronon just shrugged. "What about your mother of all headaches?"

"I'll grab an aspirin on the way out. Rats, guess I'll have to walk to my quarters in these scrubs."

And he was out the door. With a wistful sigh, Ronon looked after him. He'd have to wait this one out. And he was not looking forward to it.


End file.
